


The Golden Dragon of Westeros

by otaku72fandom



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Basically the reformation of Viserys, Blood and Gore, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Don't Even Know, IDK I just really felt like he needed to be redeemed, Lots of Viserys being put in his place, Multi, Strong Female Characters, Viserys Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:03:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otaku72fandom/pseuds/otaku72fandom
Summary: Rosavaria Tolevard is the only child of a lowly shepherd who passed away in her childhood. She makes a living out of swindling people in Slaver's Bay and riding through the desert on her horse to forget about her troubles, but on one such journey, she encounters a hoard of Dothraki, who leave something behind in their wake, a man covered in gold. Rosavaria revives him and realizes it just may have been the biggest mistake of her life. The man behind the gold is Viserys Targaryen, a spiteful, stubborn, and truly despicable individual, but will Rosavaria be able to chip away at his cold exterior and find the purest heart underneath?





	1. The Desert Treasure

I loved to ride. I have ever since I was a girl, at least that’s what my father told me. He said when I was five and rode my first horse he could barely get me off the thing, I was too excited to be part of something more. When I rode, I felt like the horse below me was an extension of myself. You feel its muscles moving along with yours and the wind blows your hair back the faster you go. I loved that feeling you get when the horse's hooves pound against the hard and sturdy ground, pushing you forward. It’s why I loved the Dothraki Sea, most people despised it for its unbearable heat and desolate plains for miles but that was the exact reason I loved it. So I could feel the cool relief of wind against my neck, slick with sweat, and ride for miles not having to worry about coming across anyone or anything. My horse, Iris, was beautiful dappled grey I’ve had since I was a girl. She was trained for this kind of long-distance travel. She grew up with me as a master, wanting to take her long distances with few provisions, she adapted to it well. 

I felt the weight of the pocket knife of my left leg and it reassured me, one can never be too careful, especially traveling as a young woman by herself. I’d never been attacked before, and I never wanted to, hence the knife. The cold metal of the blade pressed against my thigh underneath the layers of tan fabric I had wrapped around my body. I spied something in the distance, something out of the ordinary and my hand flinched towards my blade. All I could see was the dust rising on the horizon, but there’s too much of it for it to be wind. I slowed Iris to a trot and listen, I heard the hard smacking of horses hooves on the packed soil that didn’t come from me and my brain began to race. Hide, I think, find somewhere to hide or you’re done for. I spot a small rock outcropping to my left and directed Iris towards it. She obeyed me without question and I dismounted her quickly, hiding her in the shadows and lifting up my kaftan to pull the knife from my belt. I saw a small hole in the rocks and walked over to it silently. I knelt down and squinted through it. 

The cloud of dust was bigger now, more menacing in appearance. The red of the clay soil was being tossed up in the tracks of whoever was causing it. I saw the first of their horses break through the barrier of earthy fog and my breath came from my lips in a harsh intake. His hair was long and dark, woven into many braids. His skin was tanned and he was built with muscle, he had a long dark beard but it was the blue painted onto his body that told me this man was a Dothraki, more specifically, Khal Drogo. 

I pulled myself away from my spying place and pressed my back against the stone wall. I looked at Iris and she looked back at me, expressionless. What was I going to do? If the Dothraki found me I might as well have used the knife to slit my own throat. I couldn’t help my curiosity and I looked through the small opening again. The Dothraki rode their horses, loud, boisterous and proud. I saw one among them that looks different. Her hair was long and silvery and her skin a pale milky white. She sat regally atop her horse and I could tell even from this distance that she was a noble. Khal Drogo let out a mighty laugh before raising his spear in a battle cry, his followers copy his movements but the pale woman does not. 

That was when I noticed there was something dragging in the sand behind his horse. I squinted at it until another gasp comes from my lips, it was a corpse. Their hands and ankles were tied together and they were completely lifeless. My blood ran cold and I halted my movement, that poor man was probably just some merchant who looked at Khal Drogo in the wrong way and ended up dragging behind the fleet of Dothraki soldiers for it. I imagined how he must have run to keep up, but inevitably stumbled and had the life jerked out of him with the movement, his skin being slowly worn away by the earth. Khal urged his horse back into motion and he dragged the body around behind him in triumph, the others chanting and shouting. After a few wide circles, a knife was pulled and it severed the rope keeping the corpse at bay. The body fell lifeless to the ground with a small thump and the soldiers cheered again. It was only a moment or two before Khal sets them back off in the direction they came from. Everyone followed in haste, except for the woman with light hair. She stopped for a moment and looked down at the body with something in her eyes that I couldn’t discern from this distance. Iris kicked a rock across the ground and her harsh blue eyes flared up to look directly at me. 

I couldn’t move, even if I were to pull away she would see the movement. She stared me dead in the eyes and I felt as if there was no space between us, there was no wind or desert sun. Just the pale woman looking at me, staring into my soul. But she blinked first, as a man with dirty blonde hair and light skin put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Come along, Khaleesi,” he spoke in the tongue of Westeros. One which I knew, but didn’t hear very often except for at trading ports. The Khaleesi nodded and after one last glance at the body turned and rode off after the Dothraki. I could feel my breath bouncing back at me from the red stone. The woman disappeared into the cloud of dust but it wasn’t until the unturned sand had completely settled that I ran out from my hiding place and towards the body on the ground. I tripped in my long skirts and fell to my knees in front of the body. He was immaculately dressed in leather clothing and trousers that I discovered were made of some kind of silk. He had a belt with a place for a sword but it had been removed. The area around his wrists was bloody and torn from the rope digging into his cold and lifeless flesh. I looked at his face and had no words. I saw no features, only the gleaming shine of melted gold in the hot sunlight. 

“What happened to you?” I asked him, but the dead man didn’t reply. He was a nobleman, that is something I knew for sure from his clothes and the fact that he possessed a sword. His skin was pale too, so he was not from Essos by birth. My skin was light for someone who was born in Slaver's Bay. My father always told me that I had a deep connection with the sun and light. My hair was the light brownish red of the sand and my skin was the color of sun-bleached rock on the beaches of trading ports. My excessive time in the sun had given me countless freckles instead of darkening the tone. I was considered ugly in most places, and men said that they would rather have an old woman than a speckled one. That as well as my height, being taller than almost all women and a good deal of men as well had given me the proper body for riding horses and traveling long journeys, but not for wooing. I never cared much though, men were not my main concern. A desert breeze rushed by me and I held up my hand to shield my green eyes from the sand the lands threw at me. The wind blew the dead man’s hair in the wind and I looked down it. The single strand untouched by the gold was white blonde, almost silver. 

This man was undoubtedly related to the pale woman on the white horse. That is why she lingered, she knew him. Was he her father or cousin or brother perhaps? I felt something tug at my heartstrings as I looked down at the man. The Dothraki were a cruel and ruthless people, this man had probably done nothing wrong in the first place. I thought back to the pale woman, the Khaleesi; she was very beautiful, and the wife of Khal Drogo. Perhaps she had done something wrong, and instead of punishing her directly, the Khal had instead taken it out on her family member. 

I couldn’t help the feeling of immense guilt that washed over me as I looked down at the dead man. The sun shone in my eyes and I felt my lips begin to move around the words. I spoke, not to the dead man, but to R’hllor. “Lord,” I said, my voice was soft and strained. “cast your light upon this man. Bring him back from death and darkness. His flame has been extinguished.” I looked back down at him but he still did not even twitch. I felt tears come to my eyes as I continued. “I know he is not your servant, and he may have done things to displease you in the past, but please, a life taken like this is not a life work taking.” 

“He has sinned.” A voice spoke in my mind, it was not that of my own. It reminded me of my father’s, deep and commanding, but there was something different about it. “He has sinned more sins than you or your father or his father before him. This man was despicable, I see no need to revive such things.”

“Please,” I begged, “I’ll teach him, I’ll teach him a better way! Have him repent of his mistakes in his new life! Just bring him back!” Another wind blew across the empty field and a beam of light reflected off the gold. Then, as if it had been forced into his lungs, the man breathed. At first, it was a gasp, but then it settled to a slow and shallow pace, but he was breathing still. I felt a large grin creep onto my lips. “Thank you,” I whispered into my hands, “I will not forget the kindness you have shown me.” The light on the gold faded, and the gold began to melt. 

I watched in awe as the metal slowly softened before my eyes I reached out to touch it, and my fingers seeped into the cool metal. It felt like honey and I wasted no time in brushing it away. My hands traced over his face, pushing the shining metal off of his skin. Eventually, it was all gone and revealed the man’s features. His brows were dark compared to the white blonde of his hair and his face looked as if it was used to scowling. He had a prominent nose and thin lips. The gold had singed his hair and left scars in its wake that not even the Lord of Light could remove. The skin was patchy and red, but it did not take away from the overall appearance of the man himself. I could not deny it, he was very handsome. I removed the last of the gold from his cheekbone and placed it on top of the pile, which was quickly solidifying. I pulled my knife from my leg and cut the rope binding him, his blood stained my hands but I did not care, I could still hear his breathing, and I saw his chest rising and falling ever so gently. I wondered in that moment what I should do next. This man was alive now, and I had pledged to help him. I scolded myself for a moment at making such foolish declaration in the heat of the moment but I calmed, I had saved a man’s life, I had done right by him. 

Reluctantly, I stood up and walked back over to Iris. She whinnied lightly when she saw me and I smiled at her. I reached into my saddlebag and pulled out the water I had brought along for the trip. I walked back to the man and knelt down next to him. Gently, I pulled his head into my lap, careful not to disturb any of the injuries left by the molten gold. I opened my flash and coaxed his lips open. Slowly, I tipped his head back and let a bit of the water flow down his throat. I watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. I breathed a sigh of relief, thank R’hllor he’s drinking. I suddenly saw movement from below his eyelids and pull the water away. His eyes did not open, his lips only moved open and closed, searching for the water. I obliged his silent wish and brought the flask back to his lips. He drank greedily until he’d had his fill and pulled his head away, leaning closer to my lap. 

“We have to get you something more than water,” I said to him, but I didn’t know if he could hear me. I called for Iris and she trotted up to me. I picked up the melted gold which had since become solid in a large block that I could sell for a good deal of money and put it in my bag. Iris huffed a complaint for a moment but settled back into silence. Then, with great difficulty I might add, I hoisted the man up onto Iris’ back. The poor girl stayed still while I lifted a weight greater than my own, but eventually, I managed to keep him upright on the saddle long enough for me to sit in front of him. I pulled his arms around my waist and tied his wrists together with a piece of cloth, it would be gentler on his wounds than a rope. I looked up at the blazing sun in the sky and saw that it was almost noon. I had reached out this far into the desert at a gallop on Iris in a matter of hours, so I would be lucky to return home at a trot before sundown. I took one last look at the man secured behind me and flicked the reins and Iris carried us both out into the desert.


	2. Awaken

The journey through the mountains was more difficult than she had perceived, with the added weight of the gold and another person who was unable to prevent themselves from slipping off of the saddle added time that she hadn’t planned for, and the moon was well into the sky by the time she reached the farm. It wasn’t much, just a barn and a small home with fields filled with sheep outside of Astapor. But what it lacked in size it made up for in sentiment, her father had built it for her family. When they were all still living. The woman untied the man’s hands and managed to lay him down safely in a bed of hay while she took off Iris’ saddle and gave her water and food. 

“Good girl,” she praised the majestic beast, speaking in her native tongue of Valyrian. After more grunting work, she managed to get the man into her home and onto a couch by the fire. She had fetched some water from the well and dipped a cloth in it, gently pressing the damp fabric to his forehead as she tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. He was still breathing, and that was better than nothing. She took the cloth off of his forehead and dipped it back into the water, wringing it out. She moved to put it back on his forehead when she saw bright blue eyes staring at me. They were identical to the ones on the pale woman. His pupils were wide and he seemed to be frozen in confusion. 

“Hello,” she tested the waters in the common tongue of Westeros. She assumed it was what he spoke, the same as the pale woman. Before she could get another word out, the man spoke. 

“Who are you? Where am I? Where’s Dany?” he stood up suddenly and reached for where his sword once was but his hand only grasped empty air. The sudden movement had a wave of dizziness wash over him and he leaned forward and clutched his head and his short white blonde hair. When his hands touched his head she watched his eyes widen again, “What happened to my hair?” This question seemed to be more important than the others and she tried to take a step forward to calm him down but he stepped back and held up a hand. “Don’t come any closer, wench. You’ve kidnapped me, I know you have. You’ll be executed for this, this is treason!” 

“Calm down,” she said, taking another tiny step forward. 

“But I know Dany will be at the door any second now.” She put a hand on his shoulder to try and ease him to sit but he grabbed her wrist and yanked on it. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, watching her with cold eyes. He began to twist her arm and the pain began, so that’s when she acted. She grabbed his wrist in return and pulled him to my side, effectively twisting his wrist instead. Her foot connected with the back of his shin and the man buckled, falling to his knees. The woman wasted no time in pinning his wrist behind his back.

“Don’t make another move,” she spoke in a harsh whisper. “Or I won’t hesitate to slit your throat here and now. Do you understand me?” 

“How could a woman do all that?” He scoffed, but she forced his wrist further up his back and he cried out, “Alright! Alright! I yield!” Satisfied, she released his wrist. Instantly he brought it back to his chest and cradled the injury. He looked up at her, blue eyes even more piercing now. 

“Who are and where have you brought me?” He asked. She could hear his voice clearer now, and he spoke the tongue of Westeros with great fluidity, and had an accent she suspected came from King’s Landing. 

“My name is Rosavaria Tolavard, and you are in my home outside of Astapor.” 

“Well, Lady Tola-”

“I am no Lady.”

“How should I address you then? Whore?” 

“I am no whore either.” 

“When what are you?” 

“I’m just a person.” 

He scoffed, “This is ridiculous. I command that you take me back to my sister, she is Khaleesi to the Dothraki. If you do not return me they will come looking for me, and Dothraki hordes will rape you raw.” 

“What gives you any right to command me?” 

“I am the future King of Westeros.”  _ This man is either the stupidest person I’ve ever met or he hit his head too hard falling off of that horse. _ She thought, “Good thing this isn’t Westeros. Now sit down.” 

The man huffed but obliged, “I’m surprised you even speak the common tongue.” 

“We’re not all mindless savages on Essos. I speak many languages but Valyrian is my mother tongue.” Something seemed to shift in him and he made no protest as I took a seat next to him. His arms were crossed over his chest in childish defense. 

Rosavaria squinted at him, “You don’t remember what happened, do you?” 

The sharp blue of his eyes seemed to dull as he thought, “I don’t remember much. Only that my sister was very angry with me. But when is she not? Stupid girl.”

“When I found you, you were dead.” Rosavaria stated plainly. 

His eyes flared up to meet hers, “What?” 

“You were dead, your head covered in molten gold, being dragged along in the dust by Khal Drogo’s horse. Your sister, the pretty blonde one? She did nothing to stop it, she just watched.”

The blonde’s eyes widened in fear and Rosavaria knew there would not be another outburst for a while. “But I was dead, so how am I here? Are you a witch?” 

Rosavaria shook her head, “I am no witch, I only have faith in the one true god.” 

The man looked annoyed now, “Don’t go on about this god bullshit, it’s all for show and we both know it.”

“If it is then how are you here?” The man didn’t have a response to that. 

“Why would they do that to you?” The man looked her up and down, seeming to deliberate in his mind, “Don’t lie to me.” she said, “I’ll know if you do.” 

His blue eyes met her green ones and he paused before speaking, “I am Viserys of House Targaryen, third of my name, and rightful heir to the throne of Westeros.” 

Rosavaria raised my dark brows at Viserys, “Is that really who you are?” 

“Do you not believe me?” 

“No, I’m just inclined not to.” 

“I have told you what you needed to know, now take me back to the Dothraki and you will be spared. Daenerys will no doubt be overjoyed that I’m still alive.” 

“You want me to take you back to the people who tried to kill you? I don’t think so. They tried to kill you, and succeeded. Your family’s blood and myself are what saved you, they do not want you back. Trust me on this.” Viserys looked at her for a moment before he seemed to understand the words. He looked down at his hands and opened his palms up to the sky. 

“Then what am I to do?” he asked, unable to blink. “Now, I have no power, not anymore. And my own sister saw my murder and did nothing to stop it. A golden crown,” he laughed pitifully, “something that is now forever out of my reach.” Rosavaria felt an odd feeling wash over her as I saw Viserys crumble. “You shouldn’t have saved me,” he said, clasping his hands tightly together, “I’m no good for this world. I don’t think I can name a single person who cared for my well being without being payed.” 

Before she could stop herself, she put a hand on his shoulder. Viserys looked up at Rosavaria in confusion and pulled away but she kept our eyes locked together.  _ I promised R’hllor I would help him _ , she thought,  _ no matter how much of a challenge it may be I have to try _ . 

“Listen, I made a vow to help you. So, you can stay with me in Astapor until… you’ve figured things out.” 

Viserys curled his lip at me, “Why would I want to stay with a wench like you?” 

Rosavaria simply sighed in return, “You wanted to be King of Westeros, yet you are far from being fit to do so, I think you may learn a few things by staying here with me. Then we can venture out to the city, get you a ship and some men, and we’ll be going our separate ways. I’m doing all this out of the goodness of my heart, and to save anyone else from having to experience your wretchedness” Viserys looked at her and she thought she saw something stir behind the cold blue of his eyes. Something that one might call gratitude. Even though she had just called him wretched he seemed grateful. 

Viserys nodded slowly, “I suppose that will do.”


End file.
